


Let Your Conscience be Your Guide

by Sylindara



Series: Lies to Children [1]
Category: World Trigger
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, I cannot be the only person who thought Yuuma is like a reverse Pinocchio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 08:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3843514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylindara/pseuds/Sylindara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuma tells Youtarou a bedtime story at his request. It hit closer to home than he would have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Your Conscience be Your Guide

**Author's Note:**

> Ch101 gave me too many feelings. The good thing about fanfic is that you can take an unmoveable character in canon and try to find ways to break them down. Mostly I just wanted to make the Pinocchio reference though.

Youtarou was going through a bedtime story phase, according to Rindou. Of the various baffling Earth traditions Yuuma had been exposed to up until now, this one was pretty tame. Everything in Tamakoma operated on a shift system, and this was no different – hence why Yuuma was in charge of reading to Youtarou tonight.

“This is the story of Pinocchio!” Youtarou waved the picture book in his hand, handing it to Yuuma with a flourish.

“I see,” Yuuma said, looking down at the cover; a small puppet made of wood danced inexplicably while its strings ran slack behind it, a bug in confining clothes standing to its left with a frown on its face.

“It’s about this puppet who wants to be a real boy, but he keeps getting in trouble, but he loves his dad a lot so he got to be a real boy in the end!” Youtarou said in a rush.

“A real boy, huh.” Yuuma traced the puppet’s long nose.

“That’s right, because he’d proven he was worthy.” Youtarou wiggled under his bed covers, clearly excited to hear a story he already knew all the plot twists of.

Yuuma turned the page and started reading, occasionally stumbling over the words and very thankful that there was furigana on top of all the kanji telling him how to read it.

It was harder than he’d expected. He had thought nothing would faze him anymore, but he could feel his voice wanting to shake when the old man made the wish for the puppet to be real, when the puppet allowed himself to be used - the lies so obvious for all to see, disobeying the rules and putting his father in danger. But in the end, the puppet sacrificed what fake life he had to save his father and that allowed him to be a real boy.

Saving his father was no longer an option for Yuuma. Becoming real again had never been one in the first place.

Yuuma found himself on the roof afterwards, leaving Youtarou asleep and looking like nothing could disturb him. Since the first time Yuuma came to Tamakoma, he often found himself gravitating to the roof. It was peaceful up here; the stars a reminder of all the places he had travelled through before Japan.

Replica oozed out of Yuuma’s ring, his familiar presence a comfort Yuuma didn’t want to examine too deeply. “It was a good story. Strong themes, clear morals, and a simple structure easy for children to understand.”

Yuuma hummed equivocally. “Courage, honesty, and altruism.”

“Yes.” Replica hovered a little closer, perhaps aware that that wasn’t where Yuuma’s mind was. “Common themes, and held by many societies. It is good for children to be aware of them early.”

Yuuma turned his head. He didn’t really care what sort of lessons children might learn from the story. “He broke the rules, he was bad, and he put his father in danger. But because he did that he got the chance to prove himself.”

“It ties up a bit too neatly, it _is_ for children after all,” Replica admitted. “But it was Geppetto’s decision to try to save Pinocchio, just as it was Pinocchio’s decision to disobey in the first place. We are all responsible for our own actions.”

“I know,” Yuuma said softly. And then, because he couldn’t lie to himself – not when he could see it so clearly, when it was big enough for him to drown in – and because he never could keep anything from Replica either, he said, “In that story fake boys save their fathers and become real. But my dad saved me and I became a fake.”

Yuuma looked at his hand. But it wasn’t really his hand; no flesh, no blood. Just his dad and all of his trion and all of his life in the shape of a ring for an eleven year old boy on the verge of death. Trion bodies weren’t real, just a disposable suit you controlled from safety. But Yuuma had no one to pull his strings; the eleven year old inside him died a little more every day.

“Do you wish to be real, Yuuma?”

“I want to save my dad.” The words burned on their way out. It would be easier to pretend it was a lie, there were things that mattered more, but he knew it was the truth. “But I can’t. I promised them – Osamu and Chika – I promised I’d fight for them. I can’t throw that all away.” He looked at Replica. “Do you think I can? Give up my fake life and save Dad? Is it even possible?”

“I’m not the one who decides that, Yuuma,” Replica said, the familiarity of his words etched into the bones that Yuuma didn’t have. “You are.”


End file.
